Curse of Curves
by Moon Prynces
Summary: The irony that Buttercup is the sister with bigger assets. And that idiot's reaction to it. Not to mention their relationship throughout the years, as well as her relationship with herself.


8-23-12

5:28pm

Summary–The irony that Buttercup is the sister with bigger assets. And that idiot's reaction to it. Not to mention their relationship throughout the years, as well as her relationship with herself.

**Disclaimer–I do not own Powerpuff Girls, which belongs to its respective owner(s) and is only being used in a fan-made, fictional story.**

**xoxo**

**Title–Curse of Curves**

**By–Moon Prynces**

**xoxo**

"_Buttercup?_"

The fact that her name was said with complete surprise and disbelief made her wish she hadn't woken up at all this morning.

There was no hiding anything now, so she turned around to face the person and put a hand on her...hip.

_Great._ It was Butch: arch-nemesis when it came to gym class and recess and any physical activity or sport.

"What?" she barked out in her usual tone, despite this being the first time they'd seen each other since school let out two months ago.

He stared like the stupid twelve year old he was, not a trace of his customary arrogance or ridicule. At first his expression was blank, wheels still turning, she supposed. Then it kind of crinkled into confusion and skepticism. But finally there was this blooming of realization.

She watched in horror as some unfamiliar (that would soon change) grin spread across his face before he finally spoke.

"Geez, if I had known you'd turn into such a looker I wouldn't have beaten you so badly in that last game of baseball. Have you been a girl this whole time, Buttercup?" he snickered to himself.

Their exchange was attracting an audience, though the school was still a block away.

Either way, she'd had enough and did what she always did. She stomped over and punched him in the gut so hard he fell to his knees as the gathered kids watched.

A few parents were making their way over to intervene but the deed was done. And this was how their dysfunctional relationship started: with her hitting puberty.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

**xoxo**

So what? Almost all the girls were in the same boat. The only reason he pointed it out was because she was such a tomboy before. It wasn't a big deal.

At least she had gotten over most of the awkwardness during summer break. That way, she could still walk back into the schoolyard like she owned it.

...Except that now her still-developing hips were making the trek across it a little strange and the training bra wasn't as helpful as it should've been and some of the kids (friends and pseudo-friends) were staring and talking about her.

When she reached the group that was about to play handball Butch looked to her lazily, having gotten over the shock (and his injury).

"What're you here for? To be a cheerleader?" And he motioned to the few girls that hung back to watch and gossip.

"No amount of cheering is gonna make you a decent player, Butch," she shot back, getting used to putting her hands on her hips like a superhero.

Some of the others 'ooh'ed and laughed while he looked burned at the comment.

She hoped he would get over this re-discovery that she was, yes, a girl. She hoped it would get old fast. She hoped that after this the only thing that would make her stand out was her talent and hard work.

**xoxo**

A different kind of whistle cut through the sounds of sneakers and basketballs against the hardwood floors. It immediately made her flinch before making a pass.

The game ended and she glanced up to glare in the direction of the bane of her existence.

Butch puckered his lips in a mock kiss and wiggled some fingers at her in a supposedly coy gesture.

Buttercup made to throw the reacquired basketball at him but the teacher grabbed it before she could finish the move.

"Hey, BC," he commented as everyone began heading to the locker rooms. "Nice shorts."

She gritted her teeth and stared straight ahead. One of her hands went to pull down the article of clothing just a smidge more, as if that would help her situation.

Could she help it that genetics gave her a nicely pronounced frame? And that she liked to play sports and any outdoor activity so that her legs and buns were toned?

Only a week into their freshman year and he was on her case. She had been hoping he moved away during summer or went to another high school.

But no. Here was Butch, leering at her like a desperate loser.

Whatever. She may have grown even more over the last few years, but it wasn't just physically.

"Yeah, they are," she told him calmly. "But you're never gonna get in 'em."

And she was satisfied to have used the correct euphemism so that his face showed shock and he stopped walking completely.

She shook her head with a small smirk and continued into the girl's locker room.

**xoxo**

"There's...someone behind you..." her friend tried to say with a baffled expression.

She glanced over her shoulder to see whatshisname smirking at her. "I don't see anyone," she said while turning back.

"So how were tryouts?"

Buttercup cringed just a little. She had been hoping to forget all about that.

_"Today? But I thought–"_

_"Schedules got changed. Can't be helped. If you're still trying out then it's today. No exceptions. Positions should have been picked already." And the teacher shrugged and walked away after informing the last few candidates: Buttercup and one of her friends._

_Which was why she was standing on the soccer field, waiting, and trying not to move around unnecessarily._

_If she had known tryouts would be today then she wouldn't be attempting them without a sports bra on. In fact, what she was wearing was so far from something one did any vigorous, flailing activity in._

_She heard the all-too-familiar whistle from her least favorite person as the boy's (already decided) soccer team came out to sit on the bleachers. Though their practice wouldn't begin until girl's tryouts were over, their objective was obvious: to stare at the female students running around, getting sweaty and possibly shedding their clothes to the barest amount._

_Although they now had an unwanted audience, she was still going to put in her best effort. She just hoped this would be over soon, and without incident._

That had been two days ago.

And things had gone pretty decently. In the beginning.

Someone was waiting by her locker, and staring her down pretty intensely. She almost started crying out in frustration. It couldn't be helped though. She needed her bio book and class was two minutes away.

He glanced at her shirt and she sighed in depression.

It was just plain cruel that out of her sisters Buttercup had come to be the one with the bigger "assets". They weren't spilling out of her shirt or begging for attention, but her bra size was noted by her siblings and a few shared female friends, as the average among them was obviously smaller.

But then _Butch_ had to notice the other day during tryouts. And now he would never let it go.

_She shifted uncomfortably while taking a long gulp of water during their quick break._

_Most of the guys were still lounging around and making comments to each other that no one else could hear. Soon as coach let them have water and rest, a few of the brats came down to chat up the poor girls._

_She was unlucky enough to have __**him**__ come licking at her heels._

_"Hello, Butch," she addressed plainly and began retying her laces._

_"Didn't think you'd go for soccer this year. Was the cooking club full?" he chuckled._

_"And have you miss me running around with less clothes on?" she shot back._

_"You've got a point there."_

_There was an awkward pause, because they weren't exactly friends and all interaction was usually mocking, even after all these years. You would think high school sophomores would be less immature – that maybe they'd grow to forget their past quarrels._

_"Nice outfit," he finally said. And before she could look up to respond, he slipped a finger between her shoulder and the skinny bra strap no longer hidden by her tank top to lift slightly and have it snap back against her skin._

_Instead of the expected, however, the strap snapped on her shoulder and ripped apart. In horrid slow motion their eyes went wide and mouths dropped open at the scenario, and she quickly grasped at the now loose bra to hold it in place._

_A long, strangled silence passed as his hand was just slightly pulled back from having created this unfortunate incident while she stood glaring at him and covering her chest with both arms._

_The coach blew her whistle and shouted for the girls to get back on the field, but Buttercup didn't move or break eye contact with him._

_It took another two minutes before the coach realized someone was missing and came over to investigate._

_Of course, this was the moment where he finally took a glance at her chest as she was trying to hold everything in place._

_And as she was being addressed by the teacher, he spoke again._

_"Where have you been hiding those?" he asked blankly._

"If you don't leave right now, I'm going to rip off that locker door and kill you with it," she told him when she was within distance.

"So...did you make the team?"

"Well, considering I couldn't finish and had to get a ride home while _holding my shirt the entire time–_" She cut herself off and concentrated on opening her locker.

Then there was this cool sensation of a finger tracing along her jaw. She jolted in realization that he was touching her. _And_ staring at her with a very serious and entranced expression. And his face was closer than it should have been!

Buttercup stared in horror as he examined her carefully and she was forced to admit that he had gotten taller than her some time in the past two years of high school.

"Sorry about...your clothes," he started off carefully, voice deeper than when they were kids. A small smile, one side higher than the other, came across his lips. "But you don't exactly need it, anyway," he said, the reference obvious this time.

She came crashing back to reality at the perverse implications in his words. So she grabbed her textbook and smacked him a couple times with it.

Butch was too busy laughing good-naturedly – like she was _joking_ – so she left the scene to get to class before the bell.

**xoxo**

He now made it a point to smile deviously in her direction whenever he could, and then let his eyes skid up and down her form quickly before staring her down again.

She rolled her eyes most of the time or just avoided eye contact altogether. One of her friends suggested she just report him for sexual harassment.

Her reply was, "He's just a kid with no sex life. We should really just feel bad for him."

It caused a few rumors to start, but she only smirked in satisfaction.

All in all, at sixteen years of age, Buttercup was used to her figure. Maybe not completely comfortable just yet, but things were okay.

So she had to wear a sports bra and tank top combination to keep herself in check during any of her favorite activities. And so she couldn't wear shorts that were as small as underwear like other girls. And maybe it was a little bit her fault that all the working out made her toned enough that her "assets" were that much more...distinct.

It never really bothered her, or sent her home crying and wondering, 'Why me?'

...Until she actually liked someone, and he liked her... Well.

"Did I hear right?"

She looked up to the person walking next to her. And then let out a sigh of exasperation.

It was her idiot stalker/closet admirer.

"You're dating that guy?" he asked again without preamble.

Buttercup frowned. How'd word get around so fast? They'd only been out once.

She decided to go for ignorance. "What are you talking about?"

Butch grabbed her arm and steered her into an empty classroom. "Do you even know what he's like? Soon as you agreed to go out with him he had bets going around about how long it'd take to–"

"Shut up," she quipped uncaringly. "So what? Maybe I want him to."

He gaped at her in shock. "Babe, I thought _I_ was the only one for you."

She glared at the newly acquired nickname. And that he was back to joking. "Look. We've been over this. You can stare all you want; that's fine. But, no. Touching." Then she smiled brightly, if a little smugly, and left him watching her back in alarm.

**xoxo**

She wasn't worried about him, the guy she was dating that is. She could definitely take care of herself.

No, she was afraid that... (she was wasting her time) (would regret it) (he wouldn't be worth it) (she wouldn't enjoy anything with him) ...that she would never have a real relationship. Because she knew he didn't like her the way she did him.

But she _did_ like him. And that's why she went out with him – more than once. It was why she was so willing to let him kiss her. It was why she ignored all the rumors at school that he'd "gotten to" her already. She could live with it for little while.

But there was one thing she could not live with, and he hit the nail on the head.

They pulled apart, his fingers still caught in her hair as they sat in his car on her block where the shadows made it harder to see what they were doing.

Buttercup watched him, feeling her heart clench at the touch. Somehow she managed to say, "I really should go now."

He nodded, still smiling in that way like he knew how hard it was for her to leave.

She took a deep breath and turned away to open the door.

"Hey," he started, forcing her eyes to look in his again. "I was wondering..." And she stared stupidly, wanting to know what he'd say. "...if you could wear something a little sexier next time we go out." He smiled lazily, leaning against his seat.

Buttercup stopped breathing and felt like she'd been slapped.

"You know, since you have such a nice body, you might as well show it off," he tried to explain. Obviously the compliment was supposed to make her melt and give in to his whim.

Instead, she gritted her teeth and said, "Uh huh." And then she shut the car door as calmly as possible before walking to her house and letting him drive away.

Yeah, she had known the deal from the beginning, but it was the first time he'd said anything about her...physical attributes. Everyone thought she'd like the compliments and admiration, but it really just made her want to put on some baggy sweatpants and hoodie, and go for a run in an attempt to get rid of all the "curves".

Why couldn't people just let it go? How she looked didn't make who she was. She didn't like hiking and swimming because she could wear short-shorts and bikinis. She didn't spend time outdoors, running around playing soccer and basketball and every sport she could because she wanted to show off her figure to an audience.

And she certainly didn't wear "sexier" or more revealing clothes just because she "had a nice body".

**xoxo**

She couldn't help stomping her way to her locker the next morning in her usual attire: a plain, modest t-shirt and a pair of pants that covered everything and fit well so it wouldn't split open whenever she moved (unlike some other girls around her).

"Hey," he said, walking up to her. "You okay? You didn't answer any of my messages last night. I was thinking for our next date we could just–"

"There won't be a next date," she said before he could finish. She hadn't looked up from swinging open her locker and moving things between it and her bag.

"Wha–" he sputtered for a moment. There was a quick glance around to try and preserve his reputation. "Babe, come on, did I do something?"

After completing the switch, she closed the door and looked at him with a dry smile. "No. I'm just over you."

**xoxo**

"How in the world do you finish first?"

She looked up sharply at the voice, having assumed everyone left ten minutes ago.

Butch sat on the first row of bleachers, just a few feet from where she stood on the track about to peel off her tank top.

Now she paused, each hand still grasping the opposite side hem of her shirt. "What're you doing here?"

"I heard the track team was practicing." And he grinned lasciviously.

For the first time since they'd known each other, Buttercup smiled at him and shook her head to herself.

"What was that?" he cupped his hand to ear. "Did you like that one?"

She had turned away by then, deciding to skip her personal practice run, and picked up her bag and water bottle. "No," she shot back quickly. "Just reacting to your...predictability."

Butch leaned against the bleachers again and grinned to himself, satisfied. "So? How do you do it?"

When she glanced over, it was to see his head cocked to the side with a genuinely curious expression.

"I mean, not to sound like an ass...again," he started. "But most of the other girls aren't so...well-endowed. But when I look at you...I'd think it hurts or something. All the running," he added, just to be clear.

Her mouth dropped open. "Th-then don't watch me!" she shrieked in embarrassment, and immediately dropped her things in order to cover her chest with her arms.

"Sweetie, I don't have x-ray vision. You can put your hands down." She didn't. "I'm just asking. Like I said, the other girls on track and field are usually straight up and down, no hip swaying to hold them back, and yet they still lose to you."

"Well, I don't know," she couldn't help but glare. "Maybe I'm just better." He was nodding along, listening to her reasons. "Maybe I just want it more."

Silence.

"Or maybe," he said casually. "They're just not good enough."

"Isn't that what I ju–"

Butch was already getting up and heading back to the school, and exit. Buttercup frowned and watched him leave, because it was so unlike him. It was usually her walking away.

"Good enough for what exactly?" she finally asked.

**xoxo**

A perverse whistle broke the air and caused the team to glance up in surprise at the attention.

She wiggled her fingers with a smirk at the confused faces that turned to the bleachers.

When she looked back to her target, who had been taking off his tank and thus made her decide on this course of action, he was staring at her in horror and still clutching the shirt in his hands.

Buttercup couldn't suppress the smile and laughter as she noticed his face become red. And it wasn't from the exertion of practice.

He tried to ignore her for the next twenty minutes until one of the guys said, "Ah, you're messin' us up here! Just go see your girlfriend already."

A few of them jokingly agreed with laughs, slaps on the back and hands ruffling his hair. The coach didn't say anything as he passed and walked up to where she sat with teeth biting back her smile.

"What're you doing here?" he asked after sitting down next to her and resting his elbows on legs.

She watched as he avoided eye contact and hunched forward to stare out at the field.

"Aw, is someone uncomfortable?" And she leaned toward him with a hand landing on his bare back suddenly.

He jumped at the action and she started laughing all over again.

"What, you like sweaty guys?" He finally turned his head to look at her.

Buttercup grinned mischievously, and with a lifted brow said, "Maybe I do."

"Oh yeah?" he asked back and stood up.

She watched in momentary confusion. Until he grabbed her to stand and attempted to hug her, shirtless and covered in sweat and just being a gross boy. She screeched like the girl she didn't know she was and tried to push him away.

The ruckus caught the attention of the team again, who began cheering at the two and yelling out commands for the couple...that wasn't actually a couple. The coach's whistle couldn't stop them.

"Ugh," she said in (somewhat) pretend disgust when he let go, looking triumphant. "Now I probably smell like you."

"Good. I've marked my territory then," he put both hands on his hips like Superman.

She rolled her eyes. Which then strayed to stare at his lanky frame, slightly discernible abs and low-slung pants. Even as she examined him critically, she saw the nervous twitch and put her focus back on his face.

"Why, Butch, if I didn't know any better...I'd think you didn't actually like having a girl _ogle_ you," she teased intently. "I thought, with it being you, you'd love the attention."

"So did I," he confessed, trying not to look self-conscious.

"So then, you don't really like a girl staring at your body and judging you and undressing you with her eyes when all you're doing is trying to get through a chem test?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Especially when they start to notice little things that normally shouldn't matter, but now someone's looking closely and they point it out to the whole world."

"I–"

"Feeling a bit self-conscious?"

"It's only cuz–"

"Aye! Are you two done up there?" someone called.

The two heads spun to see the coach waiting for him to get back to practice.

"Well, get back out there, tiger!" she told him fiercely while sitting down again.

He would have laughed too, if she hadn't smacked his butt and almost made him trip his way down the stairs.

**xoxo**

"So, explain to me again what happened the other day," he said upon taking a seat next to her.

Buttercup didn't glance up from the homework she was finishing, though kept her voice down in the quiet library. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"Yeah, I remember you making me look like a fool in front of the team." He obviously had no qualms about his volume.

She couldn't help a few stray chuckles at the memory though.

"What's the problem with looking? You said it was okay for me," Butch shrugged like it was nothing, thinking back to the track field with her blushing crazily and covering her chest.

She turned to him, face scrunched up in disagreement. "That was a joke to get you off my back. I can't believe you remember that." She paused. "I can't believe you _believed_ that!"

"Shh!" came from some far corner of the room. They glanced up but couldn't find the source, so went back to their business.

Then there was silence as she went back to scribbling the answers for her English Lit class and he waited. When she looked up, it was to see him still staring expectantly.

Buttercup looked around, as if to make sure no one else was listening. "I just don't like the attention," she said with a shrug and began absently twirling the pen between fingers. "I mean, if it was for my grades or sports or something I can _do_ then it's fine. But do you know what people do when they pay attention to your looks?"

He didn't answer, though waited for more on the topic.

Her reasoning became unintentionally hostile. "They start picking you apart! Like they have any right! It's not the kind of attention I want. I mean, do you know the kinds of things I've heard? Someone once told me I should grow out my hair like Blossom. Or that I should wear dresses more often like Bubbles! Why should me looking like this affect my personal style? I can dress the way I want."

Butch's eyes rolled to the side in thought as she spoke.

"I've heard ridiculous comments about how I should model, or just stop playing sports altogether. And the stupid _compliments_, oh god." He watched her slap a hand over her face. "I don't control my genes and how I turned out this way, for the most part, so how is it a compliment? It's just an observation at this point. Telling me I did awesome at the last volleyball game, that's a compliment. Because I put in so much effort and it paid off!"

Again, "Shh!" was heard and caused her to cease rambling angrily. Buttercup snapped out of her tirade and looked back to the boy in front of her, who still looked wrapped up in his head. Did he even hear what she was saying?

She sighed to herself, knowing it had been pointless, and went back to her homework.

"I see," his voice finally spoke.

One of her brows arched as she kept writing. "That's it?"

"No, I mean, I get it."

She leaned her face in palm with a dry look and said, "I doubt it. You weren't the one with boys poking fun at your training bra before _actually_ trying to poke it."

But he glared and frowned. "Look, I get not wanting attention for the wrong reasons."

Buttercup stared as he shifted to start reading a book he'd had with him, completely ending their conversation. Her lips moved to one side and expression soon followed in pleased surprise. He was now either refusing to look at her, or truly engrossed in his reading – she couldn't tell.

"Wanna go out tomorrow?" she questioned suddenly, holding her breath just a little.

He looked disturbed upon hearing this and glanced back to her. "You just insulted me. And now you're asking me out?"

So she was taken-aback at his response, and feeling somewhat foolish. "Well, I–" A quick breath was taken to react sensibly. The dark-haired girl smiled playfully at him. "Yeah. Maybe I just want to do it again."

Butch grinned at her answer.

**xoxo**

"Ice cream again?" she complained, though was automatically drawn to her favorite flavor.

"I'm paying all the time, so what'd you think?"

"No you don't. You're too cheap to foot the bill most of the time."

"Well, why should I pay for what I didn't even eat? I'm another broke high school student too."

"Shouldn't you have a job already? We're seniors now."

"Shouldn't _you_?"

The two stared each other down, making faces, until the guy behind the counter shouted, "Next!" and they ran over to give their order.

When they got outside, each with a cone in hand, Butch realized she was watching him.

"What is it?"

She thought a few more moments before looking at her ice cream, the same flavor she always got. "I should try something new next time. You're always getting something different."

"Well, my preference changes. Depending on my mood and the weather and the day I've had...you know," he nudged her with a grin and she almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

There was silence as she adjusted her messenger bag and the two paused in their walk home.

"Maybe it's not just ice cream," he commented nonchalantly, regaining Buttercup's attention.

Her brow rose questioningly as she continued to lick at the dessert.

"Your clothes. And style in general, I mean. Why don't you ever just wear something else? It's always been the same things. Plain pants, regular shirt."

She immediately glared, and teeth hurt from the chunk of ice cream she'd bit into.

"I mean, are you gonna be wearing this to prom too? Graduation? The rest of your life?" he went on, ignoring his own cone for the moment and seeming seriously interested in her response.

"Why do I need to? You want me to start wearing something more revealing too?" was all she could come up with, defensive all over again.

"Too?" he asked back, then realized. "So you're lumping me into the category of people you don't like again? Grow up already," was his parting shot before putting his attention back to his ice cream. Somehow he managed a light-hearted smile throughout, trying to stay on her good side.

"You're just like everyone else," she complained with an exaggerated sigh, also not wanting to start a fight.

He grinned somewhat patronizingly at her. "I think people aren't the problem anymore. It's you." She stilled at the words. "Other people wanted you to be something else, but now you're just afraid to step outside the box. You're afraid to try any new style, because you feel like it's just giving in to what they want." He continued licking his ice cream cone with a cheerful smile, though she looked a little freaked out at the revelation he'd come to. "Technically, people are still controlling you that way."

Buttercup looked down solemnly.

Then, "You made me drop my ice cream..." She pouted like a child and began whining until he bought her another.

**xoxo**

She was just heading to the gym to meet with Butch, having volunteered to re-organize the equipment storeroom (something she enjoyed) when she came upon them.

Well, actually she had just opened the door to the stairwell and heard the echoing of voices. And she happened to recognize the one that had her lips smiling widely and nerves tingling these days.

She had confessed two weeks ago, but only after having realized he might feel the same way. Who would've thought she'd be dating the arrogant little kid who tried to mock her figure back then? Granted, they both were no longer kids or that immature anymore.

Blossom said it wasn't a great idea, seeing as they had half the school year left before graduation, but it was different this time. She knew it. It had to be. He wasn't–

"I can't believe you scored that!" the person with him was saying excitedly.

Butch was noticeably quiet though. And she realized they were also heading down, had probably entered the stairwell sometime before her.

"You did pretty good, getting _that_ sister. I mean, Blossom's hot too, and Bubbles is cute as well but Buttercup is definitely every guy's choice."

She paused, frowning at their conversation.

"Hey, wait!"

There was some sound and their footsteps ceased so she waited as well. This guy was a pig, and she wanted to– to... Why wasn't he doing anything about this trash talk? Why wasn't he brushing the guy off, getting him to shut up? Why wasn't he...proving to be the guy she liked?

"So you really tapped that already? Lee said you–"

She breathed in sharply. It was always hard to hear the rumors without getting upset. But to know that they reached his ears as well... What if he actually thought they were true? What if this would end up like it always did?

"Lee's a liar. Don't you know that already? He'll say anything as long as someone's listening," the deep voice finally intervened.

"So did you finally see the body that no one else has, or what?" was asked irritably.

"Of course not. We've only just started dating. And I'm not dating her body, you idiot."

"Come on, just tell me. I won't say a thing to anyone else."

There was a deep sigh that even she could hear. "Just...stop talking about her already. I haven't seen a thing she doesn't want me to see."

And she finally let out the breath as they continued on, opening the first floor door and leaving her alone for the moment.

**xoxo**

"Stop walking so fast!" he shouted, almost slipping on a rock.

"I'm not walking fast! You're–"

"Walking slow, yeah yeah," he still muttered to himself in irritation.

Somehow he managed to reach the slight plateau where she was waiting for him. Buttercup glanced up from the smooth rock she decided to sit on.

Finally, she made a sympathetic face. "You didn't have to come, you know. I'm used to hiking by myself."

Butch grunted while panting from the exertion. "Look, if you want to get rid of me," he smirked, "just throw me off the mountain then."

"Then who am I going to make-out with during free period?" was her cheeky response.

And it wasn't just her response, but the fact that the sun was shining down intensely enough to give him heatstroke and she was perched so cutely on that rock in her khaki shorts and a shirt with a lower neckline than she'd ever worn and damnit he was a teenage guy – almost adult – and the most they'd _done_ was make-out! And mostly the PG stuff that parents barely blink at.

She noticed the strange expression he was making and the sweat shining on his face. She waited a moment, but he was still staring at her lost in thought.

So she reached behind, into her backpack, to pull out her water bottle and immediately shot what she could at him from the distance away.

Butch jolted in surprise – though the cold was refreshing – and sighed.

"We can take a break here, if you want," she finally said after having taken a gulp of what remained.

"There's still more to go?" He sat heavily down on the rock nearest and jumped back up when realizing it was much too pointy to be comfortable. As he found a decent spot just across from her, he was heard mumbling, "This was not how I envisioned spring break."

Buttercup pretended not to hear, because she didn't know what to say. He really didn't have to come, after all. It was something she liked to do once or twice a month and when the weather allowed it. Just a couple hours walking up, down, and around the trails at this particular park.

So she looked away, thinking of how to make this less excruciating on her boyfriend of only two months. One would think being friends for almost a year before dating would make it a smoother transition, but that wasn't the case.

Butch, however, kept his gaze on the girl before him. He watched her draw a knee up toward her to place her arms around. He watched her moodily examine the small clearing on their trail.

He kept watching until he noticed something strange. There were these...marks, or scars, or something at the tops of her legs and only visible because of her small shorts. And there were some more, though not as noticeable, at her cleavage.

Now, he didn't want to be called a pervert for staring at these places but he hadn't completely cooled down and it was really just innocent observation.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked frankly, looking far too concerned.

Buttercup snapped to attention and stared. "What?"

"What happened to your legs...and chest?" Here he got up, walked closer and leaned over her form while she stared uncomprehendingly. A hand lifted, though hesitantly, to move just near the areas he wanted to point out without touching her.

But she seemed to know what he was aiming for, all of a sudden, and jumped to her feet to brush past him hastily. Her footing wasn't even that great and she almost stumbled back into the rocks.

"Hey! Hey!" he kept calling while catching up with her brisk pace. "What just happened? What aren't you telling me?" And he eyed her thighs suspiciously, unaware of how uncomfortable it made her. On so many levels.

She was too busy thinking how stupid she was to wear these clothes today. Or at all. Of course he'd notice. When did he ever stop watching her? Though thankfully it wasn't the same perverse gaze as other guys their age. More like...captivated. And thoughtful. Who knew what went on in his head.

Still, this wasn't something she wanted to–

...What _were_ they? she asked herself rhetorically. Something she'd incurred over the years. Things she couldn't get rid of. That she stopped herself from staring at when alone in her room or taking a shower. Tiny strips of white skin that looked like scars. Which they were. From the battle of herself, and the things she couldn't control. The things she had to learn to accept.

And she wasn't quite there yet.

She could feel him still watching her and finally came up with something to dispel the slightly tense situation.

The two stopped walking abruptly and she turned to him.

"You'll see it when I want you to see it," she said quietly, looking him in the eyes. "Okay?"

They stared each other down until he finally gave in with a kind of whine and groan, placing his head on her shoulder and arms pulling her close.

"Fine."

Five minutes later they were back to hiking and he was falling behind again.

"We better be making-out when we get to wherever you're taking me!"

**xoxo**

The scene was relatively quiet for once. Except for the sounds they were making...

But it was okay, because his roommate wasn't ever around much. They wouldn't be disturbed for a while until–

He pulled away with a groan and tugged his phone from his pocket to stare at the numbers displayed clearly in the dark room. It went silent after he managed to turn off the noise it had been making in the last ten seconds (an alarm).

"Gotta get to class," he muttered and moved to sit up on the bed where they had been going at it for an hour now. "What about you?" And he glanced over his shoulder where Buttercup was still lying down and breathing deeply with a flush up and down her neck.

Upon noticing his attention she threw herself up as well, and began readjusting her shirt. "Uh, not for another hour, I think."

"Alright, I'll see you later then," he leaned toward her with a quick kiss to her temple and got up to grab a book and pen off the desk nearby. "You can stay here until then, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." She waved him off and watched as he left her in his dorm room.

A sigh came out and she gave up on controlling her breathing because really: how'd he manage himself after they always got so worked up? So she laid back down in his bed to properly regain her breath.

They were still only freshman, having luckily decided on the same university sometime between sending out applications and actually receiving acceptance letters. He decided to dorm while she either drove the two hours to school or slept over when his roommate was absent.

It was amazing they were still even together, she thought while running fingers through her hair.

Her hair... It had grown out more than she was used to, but not as long as her redheaded sister. And she decided it wasn't so bad, and it looked pretty good on her, and maybe she actually liked it.

But she could say with certainty that she liked the random blouses now part of her closet. So much more interesting than the boring, unsure t-shirts she used to wear all the time. Her favorite styles were cutouts or lace or something so sheer it would be completely transparent if wet. And she didn't mind skirts or dresses as much – she did have to wear one to prom. But she liked leather or silk, something not too tight, and maybe with studs or spikes or even just shiny rhinestones or crystals of some kind. Why had she resisted shiny objects for so long anyway?

People that didn't know her thought she was trying to be "edgy" or something, but it wasn't like that at all. Her closet didn't evolve to this to make some statement to everyone else. There was a floral dress or two in there that she wore just as much as the black, ankle-breaking boots that made her look older and sophisticated. She dared to try as many styles and trends that popped up and spread around these days.

He had been right. In trying to defy what everyone else wanted she defied her own wants, even in something as trivial as fashion. Which was actually pretty important when you thought about it.

Buttercup glanced at the clock nearby to see how long she had left. Then she turned over, bringing the discarded blanket up over her head.

But really, why was Butch still with her at all? As far as relationships went (from what she'd heard from her sisters anyway) theirs was...stalled. For a while now. And it was mostly her own fault.

She promised him, and herself, she'd be completely open someday. But it was nearing a year and he was too patient for a guy his age.

She squirmed around on his bed as her next thoughts came.

She was also impatient for something more. It was hard to fight the urges in the moment. But when it was over, and nothing had happened, she was glad to have kept her clothes on out of shallow fear.

You would think she'd be comfortable in her own skin by now.

A few minutes passed with the room quiet and still. Finally, she tugged the blanket down slowly, eyes peeking out at the ceiling thoughtfully.

Looking at how far she'd come, nothing should stop her now. Not even herself.

**xoxo**

He sighed when he felt her pull away slowly, breaking off their current kiss and sitting up to loom over him.

Instead of breaking the air with words, he just looked up in question while she straddled his waist and looked at him with dark eyes.

And he tried not to let his body take control, let anymore of that feeling slip into his veins, because he wasn't going to just take advantage of his girlfriend when she wasn't ready t–

Butch's eyes nearly popped out of his skull as Buttercup closed her own and began pulling off her shirt. His hands were caught between falling to lay at his sides submissively and wanting to reach up and touch her, so they remained in the same uncertain position nearby.

Buttercup didn't blink at this new step, just swooped back down to resume making-out. But she did feel his hesitation, because his hands still hadn't moved.

So she moved them for him. Grasped his wrists and slapped them flat on her back carefully, trying to say it was okay to do so.

His fingers twitched for moments as she kissed him until he fell back into it. Then they glided up and down her back, her sides and arms, making her shudder and shiver at the contact she'd initiated.

It felt so different having someone else touch her in this way, without the shield of clothes.

And they were lost yet again, this time – for the first time – with less to hold them back.

She urged him into sitting up, and before he could understand fully, she had wrangled off his own shirt as well.

He may have felt hot before this, but now there was surely sweat sliding down his back. Maybe he was dreaming again? Of course, he always woke up before the good parts because there was no way to properly imagine something he'd never seen...or done.

But no, here was his girlfriend, with both of them now shirtless and her staring at him intensely while he tried to figure out what had changed.

"Hey, what have you been up to?" a voice and creak of the door alerted the couple to a new presence.

Ace stood in the doorway, about to drop his bag on the floor, but had stopped upon realizing his intrusion. Buttercup didn't shy away or try to cover herself as her and Butch stared blankly.

Immediately, his dorm-mate turned around and left. Though he did mutter things under his breath about this being his first time back in days and look at what he got and no wonder Butch was so happy to have the room to himself, well he might as well go out and eat by himself and get back to work on that paper anyway.

He waved a hand without looking back before the door swung shut behind him.

Ah, here was the perfect opportunity to take a break and inquire about what she was doing. It was made even easier when she didn't pursue their previous activities right away.

"Hey," he started off shakily, suddenly feeling a chill without his shirt. "Are you sure abo–"

"Yes."

He was shocked by her quick, calm answer and that she smiled at him confidently, one eyebrow arching just a bit to make her look devious and challenging.

"But first," Buttercup said, faltering in expression and voice, "I want to show you something." She looked down while continuing. "I mean, you already saw...maybe..." her self-conscious voice said as fingers started to undo the button on her jeans.

Butch watched, not wanting to hinder her progress. She had to get off him to pull them off her legs completely, eyes avoiding his face the entire time.

The silence stretched on after she let the pants scrunch up at the end of the bed, and sat next to him in nothing but her lingerie. And she forcefully set her shaking hands on the sheets to fight the impulse to hide anything.

Now that he was allowed to look at so much more of her than ever before, he couldn't stop his eyes from taking it all in. He even turned his body to the side completely, face devoid of emotion.

She was never all that pale to begin with, but there were still somewhat distinct areas: torso, chest, most of the legs above her knees... And here he could really see all the reward from the sports and generally active lifestyle she liked; there were muscled legs and arms that he'd seen, but also toned abs and a strong back. And of course, her shape that she tried to hide away at first, something he couldn't even put into words except to say it was ironic how feminine her body turned out on its own while she made it more masculine in all her efforts.

But what was so wrong about it? What was there to feel ashamed of?

He continued examining with just his eyes, even though she trembled as if the temperature had dropped.

A relatively quiet, sharp gasp came out of the silence. "What– what happened?" burst out of his mouth at the discovery, and he leaned toward her while staring at her skin.

There were...little pale lines, as random and without pattern as lightning. Mainly along the very tops of her legs, and a few on the insides of her thighs. When he looked her over again, he saw the less noticeable ones on her chest. Though only a couple and even further between, they went under the garment there. A few more on the sides of her hips, and maybe even under her–

"They're just stretch marks. They happen sometimes...when you grow," she admitted, hands almost ripping through his bedsheets.

Butch was brought back from his thoughts, to the real world where his girlfriend was sitting before him in a vulnerable state and waiting for his judgment.

He hadn't been the only one in the past few months aching to be closer, to take another step in their relationship. But there was always something holding her back.

It took a while, because she was still so much more self-conscious than she let on. Today she finally let him see all the cracks in the armor that everyone thought she wore. Everyone assumed that she must be so confident in everything, especially what she looked like. But that was so far from it – the opposite in fact.

When her eyes, which had been staring down at the space between her legs impatiently, finally looked up it was to see him looking right back.

Buttercup smiled wryly. "So, you done yet?" A brow went up, confidence and routine returning.

"Never," he returned with a grin while leaning in.

**xoxo**

"All I'm saying is–"

Buttercup rolled her eyes and left her gaze on the ceiling.

Butch continued his case, whether or not she listened.

"Look at it this way," he started again. "It gives people an easy place to put their arms for hugs! And if they don't like hugs then you shouldn't be associating with those people anyway. Criteria!" he proclaimed proudly.

She burst out laughing at his reasoning and turned onto her side to look at him in amusement. His head twisted on the pillow to do the same.

"I think the topic of me has been thoroughly explored," she told him. Unfortunately, there was some twinkle in his eye at the unintentionally suggestive phrasing. "So just shut up for once."

There was quiet as she moved closer and threw an arm over his chest. Her eyes closed, hoping to take a nap before having to leave.

You would think after almost eight years since his crude and immature acknowledgement that she was indeed female he would get over it already.

Suddenly, "Bubbles said you bought a bikini. I hope you don't plan on wearing that in public. I mean, you said you didn't actually _like_ people looking." Pause. "Well, I guess now you don't care since you're over it and all comfortable with yourself though..." he veered off, grumbling to himself with a pout.

Buttercup snorted to herself, glad to have accepted her…feminine figure. Otherwise, with the way Butch liked to talk about it and stare at her in childishly innocent examination, she might have killed him by now.

He'd probably never let it go. But at least she had.

**xo end xo**

9-02-12

5:23pm

The title is from the song "The Curse of Curves" by Cute Is What We Aim For. The song is about something completely different though.

The truth is I envisioned this being a more cheerful, upbeat, and short story/drabble. But, as with my writing, sometimes it just grows and wants to do more. It grew to this. I'm just glad it's done and I'm actually satisfied with it. I was trying to write a different story before this one, and it was going nowhere and frustrating me to no end. I finally decided to put it aisde, work on something else and come back to that when I got my bearings and could stomach another read through. I've read this one more than a dozen times, probably closer to two dozen times, in the course of writing and editing.

I hope you weren't too fooled into believing Buttercup had some serious junk in the trunk with an extremely exaggerated figure. It was more her perception of it, and the reactions from people around her. And really, a thirty-six to forty inch chest (somewhere around hers, I suppose) only seems large compared to your frame and torso measurement. Since she was so active and in shape, there was hardly any fat to add on and make her less...shapely. Maybe trying to explain the female figure isn't what I should be doing...

I know it was excruciatingly long, maybe too long. But it's not a multi-chaptered story – couldn't possibly be. It'd just lose momentum in being broken up into smaller pieces. I did go through their four years of high school; hopefully you got a feel for each change with the subtle hints. By the end it's eight years since Butch's twelve year old realization. Thus, they are now twenty, and have been together for about two/three years.

I hope you liked it. But as always, thank you for reading at all and just tell me what you think! Any questions you have are welcome as well. If I can clarify anything, helping me to be a better writer, then I'd like to hear it.

**"The most important relationship you will ever have is with yourself."**

**6:18pm**


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